All Our Silver Linings
by K.Wu
Summary: After so many year, Charlie Fabray once again experiences his Mother's (Quinn Fabray) storytelling. Quinn Fabray won't tell the stories of adventurers anymore though. The story this time starts with a death and ends with a death. However, out of all those deaths, there is always a silver lining: how in a bad situation, there is always some good in it.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I wore a black suit and a white shirt, black tie, and black shoes; all polished and clean: clothes that might have been uncomfortable for me when I was a child all those years ago. I was old. I was getting old: brown hair slowly graying as the days went by. However, my appearance today gave me a sort of comfort against losing my youth; I had grown up. I had become more experienced with reality, and the world that tries so hard to revolve around it. I had grown up.

"Well if it isn't Charles?" The old nurse said looking at me. I smiled.

"How are you, Mags?" I asked as I sign myself in.

"Oh, I'm quite well." Mags responded. "How are your siblings? Elliot came by a week ago, but I haven't seen much of Janice lately." I pursed my lip.

"Well," I started off. "You know Janice, busy bee that one: Broadway and all that." I said with a tinge of sadness.

"It's alright." She gave me a small smile. She had known that the arts were kind of a harsh topic for me. Seeing how I had grown up with siblings that possessed an artistic ability and were such successes, while my last two books had bombed and did not appeal to audiences. "Well, how have you been, Charles?"

"Quite well, I guess. The divorce is being finalized next week." I said calmly.

The nurse smiled sadly at me. "I hope everything turns out okay then."

"Me too." I whispered quietly as I walked into the familiar hallways. "Me too."

I walked through the familiar hallways of the care home. I greeted the workers I had met the several times I have visited. I adjusted the black rimmed glasses that hung on the bridge of my nose. Once I was faced with the door of room 113A, I took a breath and then knocked.

"Come in." The hoarse voice from inside said. I smiled and opened the door slowly.

When I walked into the room, I saw the owner of the voice. She sat on a wooden chair in the corner of the room. She was not looking at me. She wore a pair of reading glasses and was immersed into her book. It was _Alice and Wonderland_. A book she had read all throughout her life. It was her favorite. I only smiled at what was before me. I clearly remembered those nights as a child, when that story was being read.

"Hey Mom." Mother looked up and only smiled at me. She then looked back at her book and continued to read. I frowned and felt a sense of remorse. "Look," I said as I took a seat on the chair that was near her own. "I'm sorry I haven't been coming by. It's just that the divorce—"

"Charlie," The old woman called. My posture changed and straighten from the sound of my own name. She had put her book down on top the side table. I looked fearful at the old woman. Her hazel eyes were looking into the depths of my own dark brown pools. I knew from childhood experience that I was in trouble when my Mother used that tone with me. She pushed a strand of loose white hair—that was once blonde—aside. "Do you want to hear a story?"

I remembered when I was younger, and how my mother would always have me sit on her lap and tell me all kinds of stories. Stories from modern time travelers to madmen who sang songs and paraded around. She told me stories of paradoxes and fixed points; things that would happen no matter what. My mother told me all of the adventures and travels of Charlie Abel and the companions that came along. My mother was the greatest storyteller in my eyes. She would tell the stories as if she had lived and tasted it all. Those stories made my childhood a little less sad. I did not have a sad life though. I knew that my family loved me. While growing up, I had extended family: old friends of my parents. I had a happy childhood, a happy life.

I nodded and she smiled. "I don't remember if I have told you this particular story—with my age and all it's so hard to remember…" She said sadly. "Well, after Yale, I had become the actor and writer I always wanted to be. I had published my first book and became more known in the business, after just two years. That same year I had gone back to my hometown of..." She looked out her window; the sudden pitter patters of rain stopped her from continuing.

"It's raining." I bluntly said.

"It was raining that day too." She piped up. However, I knew she only thinks it did because she could no longer remember if it actually did.

It maybe a depressing thought, but we won't remember what will happen today. We will forget. By the time I am my mother's age, I will forget today. There will be a day that I will no longer remember the stories of Charlie Abel, the time traveler, or the madmen who never looked decent while parading around. I will forget those summer nights as a child with my parents and my siblings with the stories. I will forget my firsts. I will forget my first friend, my first kiss, my first girlfriend, my first time, and my first love. I will forget the way her lips curved when she saw me. I will forget the glint in her eyes when she thought she had loved me. We will forget and it will be inevitable.

She was still fixated on the window. She stared at the raindrops; how it kissed the glass panes of the window, how a droplet collided with another and made an even bigger droplet. My mother was distant though. She was far off somewhere; or some time. She was still present in the room of her care home, but at the same time she wasn't.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I wore a black dress with a pair of black flats: clothes that I don't normally wear. However, it was right for the occasion. I was wearing the right clothes for this day. This hard day. This morning, I had done what I needed to do. I spoke the words that needed to be spoken. If I hadn't, those words would have never been heard by any living soul. Sadly, it would never be able to reach the ears of the person that the words were intended for.

When I spoke, it was hard. It was hard not to break down into tears and sobbing fits. It was hard to say or hear his name. It was hard to look her in the eyes. If I were to, I would have seen how broken she was and I would of broke with her. It was hard not to look at those brown eyes that use to be so warm and happy; it was only filled with sadness now.

When the service was done, I got into my car and drove. I did not feel like I was ready to speak to her. I felt guilty as I drove farther and farther away from the place she stood. It started to rain a little. I flicked my windshield wipers on and continued driving aimlessly. I drove. Randomly. I had an hour to kill before I had to make an appearance and meet people I had not spoken to for several years.

I had no particular destination, but drove anyhow. I did not get lost driving. I had lived in the small town of Lima, Ohio for far too long to get lost. However, I did not live there anymore; I lived in California now. It was beautiful and warm there. It was also far from here. Very far.

I pulled up into the empty parking lot. I had — unknowingly — driven back to the place where it had all started: William McKinley High School. I did not enter the campus. I merely admired the brown structure from the comfort of my rental, as the pitter patters of rain hit the exterior of my car. My heartbeats somehow synced with the rain. I relaxed a bit. It amazes me that at the time I had attended McKinley that I had considered those four years my entire life. I chuckled at the thought.

Life and Death are not fair. Life throws things at you. She gives you hell and makes you work. However, she is able to give you the utmost beautiful things in the world. Death takes people away. She was selfish, merely picking at Life's flowers and plucking them. Life loved the man who made her happy, and Death was in love with him too. Death took him away from Life and from her.

They were not together when he had died, but they were in love with each other. Very much in love. It was obvious to everyone. She was a never ending sob at the funeral, as if the light of her life was gone. She was still young though, 25 years old. Her Broadway career had just launched. She had won several awards for her revival of Funny Girl as Fanny Brice. She had succeeded—if not, exceeded—her dreams of her name in lights on Broadway.

I had decided to go to the post-Funeral reception and to finally face everyone. I had not talked to certain people in such a long time. The reason being between because of my schedule or purposely. You are allowed to think what you may.

The cul-de-sac was practically filled with peoples' cars and rentals. I drove my car alongside the curb. I took a breath before getting out of the car. I walked up the path towards the front door of the Hudson-Hummel home. I rang the doorbell. I did not wait long.

"Rachel." Her name escaped my mouth; resembling a gasp for air.

Even though her eyes were red and puffy from crying at Finn's funeral—she would probably deny this if she ever found out I was thinking this—she was beautiful. She was absolutely beautiful. Time did Rachel Berry well. However, she no longer gave off the radiance of joy she always had. No glowing and loving brown eyes that beamed. No smiling lips that curved. She was at her worse right now, but she was still considered beautiful to me.

Rachel reciprocated the gesture of my small smile. "Quinn." She said and surprised me with a hug. My arms wrapped around her waist. "I'm glad you came." I felt her breath tickle my ear.

I tighten my grip around her. "Of course." I faintly whispered. I felt wetness hit my shoulder. She wept.

I was in an ocean, and I was drowning.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hello Reader. You may recognize me and my fic for I had recently updated the previous version of this story — might I add, not too long ago — about how I wanted make it better than how I left it a year ago. If you are just reading this now, thank you for reading. It's a pleasure to have you all read this fic of mine. If I possibly could, I would like to explain to you a few things about this story (just to clear confusion, if there was any):**

 **If you have not yet noticed, I like to play with time a lot. The Prologue was obviously written in a present time and in the point of view of Charlie Fabray (Quinn's Son). Compared to this chapter (Chapter 1), where it takes place WAY BEFORE the Prologue. You will continue to see me manipulate time (Flashbacks?) as the story progresses.**

 **This is obviously an Alternate Universe type of fanfiction. The original Glee kids have all graduated and moved on from Lima, Ohio. The Prologue takes place 60 years after they've all graduated from high school. The rest of the story AFTER Prologue takes place 6 years after they've graduated from McKinley.**

 **Since the rest of the story will take place 6 years after they've graduated from McKinley, we will not see "grown up Charlie" for the rest of the story until,** _ **most likely**_ **, The Epilogue.**

 **If my explanation did not suffice, ask me a question via reviews and I will answer it on the next chapter. Also reviews are nice, like you could just put the word banana into my reviews and I would put up the next update right away!**


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